


A Dance?

by Solstarin



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2017-03-18
Packaged: 2018-10-07 09:46:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10357605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solstarin/pseuds/Solstarin
Summary: Sometime before Eomer's banishment, he meets Reader. He pokes fun at her after discovering she doesn't know how to ride a horse, and offers to teach her. Post-Helm's-Deep, she realizes he doesn't know how to dance. She teaches him in turn, with a nice intimate vibe happening. Maybe you'll end up learning more than a new skill?





	

**Author's Note:**

> I’m gonna be honest; I wrote most of this faded, but just for shits and giggles I’m uploading the whole thing. Hopefully you can’t tell. :P
> 
> Also, horses are kind of my entire life and soul. I’ve been riding competitively for, like, ten years? Anyway the point is I am 900% that one weird horse girl, so apologies if Éomer turns into instructor-mode-me for a second. 
> 
> As always, visit this link to replace Y/N with your name!  
> http://nerddface.tumblr.com/post/158451624543/a-dance

A gentle breeze pulled mist across the wide plains of Rohan, blanketing the Earth with its breath. Sunlight bounced off the low-rolling grey, awakening slowly, but had yet to throw its arms into the windows of its subjects. As life with horses went, mornings began early, and there were already barn doors being opened and hooves were pounding against the dirt. 

Y/N would always stand by the fenceline of the large back pasture to watch the horses set out the night before make their way back to the gate for morning feed and the beginning of their daily activities. There was something humbling about watching them race across the grass, rumbling a deep thunder in the ground that traveled up her legs and into her chest. 

A couple of stragglers caught her scent and decided she was more interesting than whatever lay in store at the main gate, and came in her direction. She took a step back as three broad-shouldered horses trotted briskly up to the fence, manes flying. When they settled down and extended their noses over the fence to smell her, or under it to get at the long, green grass that grew along the fencepost, she came back up, and held a hand up.

The grey one lipped at her hand, and she jerked it back momentarily, smiling though she was slightly startled. 

“Can’t eat my fingers,” she scolded. The black one shook its head and neck, its shoulders rippling. The brown one at the end noticed something down the road, and in a moment, boots were crunching dirt. She turned her head to see a tall blond man sauntering down the road. She recognized him immediately as Éomer, a prominent rider in the Riddermark, and adopted son of the King. He stopped beside her, greeting her warmly, and she smiled back, stroking the velvety nose of the black horse. 

“Is he yours?” he asked, reaching out to the black, who flared his nostrils and lifted his head to blow in Éomer’s face. The grey shouldered him out of the way, baring its teeth at the other horse’s cheek. He pinned his ears to his head and his eyes flashed as he lifted his chin in defiance. 

“No,” she replied honestly. “I don’t ride.” Watching the horses shove each other and rattle the fence reminded her exactly why. 

Éomer looked to her, his brow knit. “Really?”

“Don’t look so surprised,” Y/N muttered, shifting her weight. 

“You never learned?”

“Mmmm, no. Wagons are close enough for me. I don’t... trust horses.”

She was surprised to hear a gentle chuckle from Éomer. “That is where you are wrong,” he said. “There is no other creature in all of Arda that I trust more than Firefoot.” Y/N assumed he spoke about his own mount. There was a short pause before he continued. “Do pardon me, but surely you cannot mean that a grown woman living in Rohan does not find the need or desire to learn to work with the city’s livelihood?”

“There are plenty of things to be done around here that don’t require getting on the back of a horse,” she argued, slightly offended. “And I am perfectly happy on my own two feet.”

The grey horse threw his head back again, his tail flicking, and shouldered the bay one, butting the black on his other end in the process. 

“Arod,” Éomer scolded, and the grey horse took a step backwards, snorting. 

“You know him?” Y/N asked, changing the subject, genuinely surprised at how easily Éomer commanded the horse. 

“I know every horse in the Mark,” he replied, his voice carrying a little edge from the previous comment. “Arod is a feisty thing. He tends to get bossy, especially with a horse as lamb-ish as Hasufel.”

Silence, awkward and slightly tense, fell between them for a short time as Arod lost interest in them and cantered away, towards the now open gate. One of the horsemen there whistled, and the black horse turned his head, following the sound to the gate. Hasufel hesitated, enjoying Éomer’s fingernails scratching at the base of his mane, but followed after his companions shortly. 

Y/N turned to return home, eager to be alone again. “It was a pleasure meeting you, my lord.”

She was a little surprised when he fell into step beside her. “I wouldn’t call it meeting, truly, my lady, as I have not yet learned your name.”

“Ah-- Y/N,” Y/N answered. 

“Well, Y/N, I would be absolutely glad to show you horses are not all that you think them to be.” 

Y/N eyed him. “I’m not sure...”

She was sure it was part of a ploy, but he flashed a smile at her, and she was ashamed to admit it worked very well to soften her to his cause. 

“Come, now, Lady. I would be failing as your future King if I allowed anyone to be fearful under my watch, let alone of that which we live by.” 

And there was that smile again, somehow making her heart flutter just the slightest. Unfortunately for her, it was enough to make her cheeks flush and a smile split her lips. 

“Shall I take that as a yes?”

Y/N choked on her breath. One of Éomer’s broad hands braced her back, and she bowed her head into the balled fist at her mouth as she coughed. She probably would have gotten herself under control faster if Éomer’s touch hadn’t been so comfortably gentle, but after a moment she reined in her breath.

“Better?” he asked, and she nodded. She didn’t have the heart to tell him she really didn’t want to work with horses as they continued walking and kept her gaze mostly to the gravel.

A moment later, he spoke up. “If I recall correctly, I believe I’ve seen you around this residence.”

She looked up, and indeed, they were at her house. She turned her gaze to him, and he extended an arm, flashing that million-dollar smile once more. 

“Like I said, I must know my people. I will see you this time Thursday, at the east stables.” 

And with that, he was gone, calling out to another horseman to continue his day. Y/N scrubbed at her face, worried what she might have gotten herself into.

~

Two days later, it was dawn again, but the mist held an unfamiliar chill to it as it drifted across the plains. Dirt crunched under her boots as she walked in the quiet of the early morning to the stables. Éomer was apparently already waiting for her, leaning against the wood slats, gazing off into the wide plains of Rohan.

“Good morning, my lady,” Éomer greeted when he noticed her, and Y/N drew in a long breath. “Are you ready?”

She released her breath, and chewed at her bottom lip. “Ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose.”

He extended an arm to the aisle, and she followed him down to one of the last stalls, where a vaguely familiar bay horse was munching on a mouthful of hay. 

Éomer reached to his nose, and the animal raised his head, his ear swiveling forward, and sniffed both of them. 

“You’ve met Hasufel,” Éomer introduced. “As I have mentioned before, he’s calm, and a good lesson horse. You’ll start with him, and depending on how quickly you progress, we may move on.” He pointed to down the aisle a little further. “Down there you’ll find a bucket with some brushes in it, if you could bring that down here and we’ll get started dusting him off.”

She did find the bucket easily, and peered inside at the multitude of bushy tools, wondering how on earth she’d keep track of which one did what. She set the bucket on the floor outside Hasufel’s stall and watched Éomer swiftly pick up a broad one to swipe across the horse’s back.

She shifted on her feet nervously. “Are we... riding today?”

Éomer shook his head, noting her face and offering a reassuring smile. “There’s plenty of groundwork to be done before you set foot in a saddle. If you don’t know what things are and how they work, what’s the point of using them, yes?”

He had a point, she supposed, but regardless it relieved her immensely to know she wouldn’t have to brave getting on Hasufel’s back today. Éomer walked her through each brush and its use (which ended up being rather self-explanatory and easy to remember), piece of tack, how it went on and off the horse, and guided her through putting it on, and taking it off. He suggested taking a walk, and after chuckling at how her eyes went dinner-plate wide for a second, he clarified it would just be a walk on the ground, holding a lead. 

A few hours later, after giving Hasufel a “much needed” rub-down, Éomer suggested turning the horse out to pasture by herself. 

“I’ll be standing at the fence,” he assured. “You know how to take the halter off. It’s perfectly safe.”

Y/N wasn’t so sure about going inside the line that kept her safe from hard hooves and sharp teeth. 

“Come, now.” Éomer wrung out the drying cloth he had in his hands. “No lady of Rohan is a coward, is she?”

That sure as hell brought Y/N all the motivation she needed, and she grasped Hasufel’s lead decisively and marched to the gate. She caught Éomer’s flashing grin as he pulled the gate open for her, and in response she turned up her nose. 

At the sight of wide plains, Hasufel forgot entirely about the woman at his side and yanked the lead from her hands, breaking into a canter away from her. She tried to catch it for half a second but ultimately ended up jumping away from him in fear. Wide-eyed, she turned back to Éomer, who had doubled over laughing. Thoroughly embarrassed, she returned to the fence, and Éomer reined in his laughter and swung his legs over the top bar.

“Come along,” he beckoned. “We need to catch him to get it off.”

“I’m so sorry,” she began. “I didn’t-- he just--”

“Y/N.” He hopped to the ground. “Don’t worry. You can make it up to me by helping me catch him.”

She nodded quietly, falling into step behind him as he followed the runaway horse. 

It took nearly another hour to get ahold of him. Each time they thought they had him, he’d pick up his hooves and prance away, just out of reach. Each near miss was frustrating, but it made Éomer laugh, even when it was his hands that missed the rope. Hasufel seemed to be enjoying it just as much, and for a couple minutes Y/N simply stood in the grass and watched the two chase each other like children. When Hasufel came back in her direction, followed closely by Éomer, her heart jumped in time with her feet out of their way, but a laugh bubbled in her chest. 

Eventually Hasufel tired, or perhaps was only tired of the game, and stopped long enough for Éomer to get his hands securely on the lead, and get the halter from his face. Y/N booked it to the fence, but smiled readily back at Éomer when he returned, tack in hand. 

“That was an experience,” he said, unlatching the gate to step out. The metal hook fell back into place with a squeaky click.

“Yeah,” Y/N breathed. “I hope it never happens again.”

Éomer slung the halter over his shoulder. “Indeed. I have further duties with the horses, but you are free to go if you don’t wish to accompany me.” 

“I think I’ve had my fill of horses for today,” Y/N excused. “Thank you, Éomer.” 

He bowed his head slightly. “Of course. I will see you on the morrow.”

~

The next few days went smoothly, and she didn’t once have to get on. She knew the day was coming, though, and when the morning did come that Éomer stopped her halfway through her tack-on-tack-off routine to tell her she didn’t need to untack as she’d be riding today, her heart skipped a beat.

“Are you sure?”

“This is the only logical progression. It’s not nearly as bad as you think it will be. I will be there the whole time.”

Y/N was sure Éomer could hear her heart pounding as they led Hasufel out to a dirt arena. Éomer picked up a box on the way in, and set it beside Hasufel’s hooves when he came to a stop in the middle of the arena. She waited nervously as he double-checked the girth, the stirrups, and the latches on the bridle, then turned back to her. 

“All ready. This box should give you a boost.”

The gentle smile that held his lips did nothing for her nerves, but she stepped up to the horse anyway, somewhat assured by his hand on the reins. 

“He can’t feel his mane,” Éomer assured. “If you’d live to take a handful near his withers to help you get up, you’re free to.”

Y/N assumed his withers was something at his back, where his mane began, as that was the closest in her reach. She took a generous handful, but paused, peering at her new mentor.

“Are you sure he won’t try to buck me off?”

Éomer smiled bemusedly at her. “I’m sure.” 

“Okay,” she breathed, and set a foot in the stirrup. When nothing happened, she put some weight down. Nothing still, and she eased herself into the saddle, taking care not to brush his hindquarters with her foot and send him lurching forward and her flying. Surely she’d break her neck when she hit the ground. 

“See?” Éomer picked up the box and took a step back. “Keep your hands just where they are, and see if you can figure out how to take a step forward.”

Y/N had seen people ride plenty, so she lifted her heels to deliver a sharp jab to Hasufel’s side. He flinched, flicked his tail, and began a bouncy trot. 

Éomer’s brow knit as he stepped back up to her and stopped the horse, pulling her heel away from the horse’s side. “No kicks. You can never trust a horse taught by fear. There will always be something he fears more than you.” He smoothed the short fur behind her stirrup before stepping back. “But if he trusts you, he will turn to you when he is afraid. Press your heel, gently, try to sit your weight forward toward the pommel, and click with your tongue.”

Slightly scathed, she did so, and Hasufel took a calm step forward. Éomer watched them walk to the end of the arena, keeping a couple steps away from them, and instructed her as she walked. “Push your hands forward, be gentle on his mouth. Try getting him to turn with your leg instead of by the bit.” She did so, but Hasufel tossed his head and sidestepped, dangerously close to crushing her leg between he and the fence. She jerked her hands back, startled, and it tugged further on the reins. He lifted his front feet from the ground, and Y/N yelped, releasing the leather and gripping his mane. She pitched frighteningly, but there was a hand bracing her in a moment, and another reaching for Hasufel’s rein. 

“Hush, down,” he hummed, and the horse shifted his back end, but Éomer’s hand kept Y/N from falling over Hasufel’s haunches. After a short moment, he calmed, and Y/N regained her balance, slipping the foot that had come free back into a stirrup. Éomer’s gaze was surprisingly soft when she met it.

“You’re alright?” he asked, and she nodded, still a little on edge, and more than a little embarrassed. “No need to feel ashamed, you’re only beginning. Hasufel can feel when you’re tense. If you relax, he’ll relax.” 

Y/N had hoped Éomer would lead the horse for a time, or even let her off, but it seemed he believed in learning on the job, and stepped back. “Try again.”

Trying to keep everything he’d told her in her head, she let her shoulders relax, and tried again. Éomer led her around twice more, and let her get off. 

“Baby steps,” he informed her. “Better perfect little things than be overwhelmed by everything at once and forget half of your lesson.” She was thankful she was out of the saddle for the day, anyway- there was only so much fear-facing a girl could do in one day.

~

Over the next few weeks, she learned basic direction, how to sit in the saddle in a manner comfortable for both her and her horse, and even switched mounts twice.

She learned that Éomer was a wonderful person; kind, gentle, hot-headed sometimes, but only in fierce protection of that which he loved. She learned he liked apples almost as much as the horses did, and that he and Firefoot seemed almost seamless whenever she got the chance to watch them in the arena.

And she learned she was beginning to admire him a little more, and look forward to his wide hands at her waist as he helped her into the saddle, and the smiles he shot her when she completed a new command successfully.

She paid more attention to his mannerisms, the way he flicked his honeysuckle hair from his eyes in the hot midday sun, the way his fingers curled when he pointed to something, and the rumble in his voice when he praised her or her mount. His eyes seemed to glitter in every light, especially the winking light of the stars, and the moon turned the scars on his forearms into veins of silver.

For the coming months, she grew closer to the Lord of the Mark, far enough to call it friendship, at least. He would visit her most Saturdays for a cup of tea or a light lunch and sometimes both, and she’d come to expect his presence, so when he didn’t show up one afternoon and hadn’t let her know he wouldn’t be coming previously, she set off to search for him. The King had been deteriorating quickly over the last couple of weeks, and she could tell it plagued Éomer. Perhaps something else had occurred and had dug Éomer deeper into a sour mood.

She found him where she expected to-- tacking up Firefoot in north barn, but something was off. He spared her a glance when she approached, but didn’t greet her, and looked away far sooner than he usually did. 

“Where are you going?” she asked tentatively, taking note of his bristling and defensive behavior. 

“I am banished,” he said simply, jerking Firefoot’s cinch. 

_What?!_ “By your father’s order? Why?” Had madness finally taken him fully?

“By Grima’s order. Théoden-- The King had nothing to do with it. He cannot speak for himself any longer.”

Anger flared in Y/N’s chest. “Surely he wouldn't cast you out! When did Grima’s word become worth more than Theéoden’s?”

He whirled on her, and gripped her shoulders, his eyes locking with hers. “That’s just it, Y/N! Wormtongue can bend Théoden into any shape he desires. It doesn't matter what he may truly think, if he is even thinking at all! No matter how it was done, I am banished on pain of death, solidified by the King’s hand. I cannot stay here any longer.”

“If you go, I--”

He knew exactly where she was going, and cut her off abruptly with a hand over her mouth. “Don’t even say it. I will not have you branding yourself a traitor for my sake. Stay here, watch after my sister. She needs you, now. Grima-- I-- keep him away from her.” His fingertips dug into her shoulder, and she knew he was truly angry at whatever Grima had said to him. 

She opened her mouth to speak, but thought better of it and shut it, nodding instead. Come back to me. He hesitated for a moment, looking as though he might have also said more, but turned from her and swung himself into the saddle. His eyes didn’t catch hers as he trotted from the stable and called for the men who still followed him.

She stood in the doorway of the stables and watched him go. 

~

If she thought her heart couldn’t sink any deeper, not a week later a wizard came into Rohan, accompanied by an elf, a dwarf, and a Ranger. They came in on Hasufel and Arod, sans Éomer and his company.

Éowyn rushed to her later that day to inform her her adoptive father had been healed- released from the prison around his mind by the white wizard, but now they spoke of war. 

Y/N wasn’t sure whether she was more relieved or more worried when Théoden refused to participate. Éowyn said that from what she heard, all peoples of Middle Earth were at stake. There was no way Éomer would back down from a call to defend his people, regardless of whether he had the support of his King or more than a handful of men at his side. The thought that she might never see him again plagued her mind for days. She very nearly fainted when Théoden ordered evacuation to Helm’s Deep, and then forgot about him entirely when the Uruk-hai shook the foundations of the keep. 

It was only when she saw him when the women and children emerged that she was reminded of him. His golden hair still shone in the bright light of morning, despite being drenched by torrential rain and muddied from his hands.

“Éomer!” she cried, rushing to throw her arms around him before she could think properly. If she didn’t surprise him, she certainly surprised herself with the tears that pricked at her eyes. Éomer paused the short conversation he was having to embrace her in return, his voice rocky with exhaustion.

“Y/N. I am beyond relief that you are safe.”

Something between a sigh of relief and a nervous laugh tumbled by Y/N’s lips. “Éowyn will be glad to know you are, too.”

The Ranger who Y/N recognized as the one who visited Edoras recently cleared his throat, cutting their reunion cleanly short. “I’m sorry, Éomer, but we must make haste.”

Éomer released her. “Of course. Keep safe, Y/N. I will see you in Edoras.” 

As much as she didn’t want to let him out of her sight, she needed to attend the wounded, and he needed to regroup with Théoden, so she nodded and said farewell for the time being. She kept an eye out for flashes of blond on the journey back to Edoras, but truly spoke to him only briefly when they returned and she offered to care for Firefoot in his no doubt exhausted stead.

She didn’t see him for the rest of the afternoon of their homecoming, as she had her hands full with readying the Hall for a feast Théoden planned to throw in victory, but it worried her a little less knowing that he was within the walls somewhere just out of sight, safe for now.

She was tapping her foot to the up-tempo beat the small makeshift band had begun to play, watching of cheery people dancing, when he found her. He greeted her with a nod and crossed his arms and settled beside her, grumbling something about Elves and Dwarves. She took a sip from her goblet and gazed at him for a moment, offering the cup to him when he noticed her gaze. He declined politely, lifting his own mug of honeyed aie.

They stood and watched in companionable silence for a time. Y/N was simply happy he was alive to stand beside her, and after watching Éomer gently decline a request for a dance, studied his face.

“Not your favorite dance?” she asked. “I’m sure the band will play something different later.” 

“I don’t dance,” Éomer admitted with a snort. 

She turned her head to him, incredulous. “Seriously?”

“Don’t look so surprised,” he echoed her from so long ago.

She narrowed her eyes. “Never learned or just don’t want to? Because if you know how, you’re going to get out there tonight, if I have to drag you by your coattails.”

Éomer refused to answer. Y/N considered him, then took a fistful of his lapels, tugging with every intent to get him onto the dance floor. He resisted immediately, countering her by leaning into her momentum and spinning her back around, one hand firmly on her hip, and the other prying her fingers from his tunic.

“I don’t know how,” he growled in her ear through gritted teeth. 

She sucked in a sharp breath at the _incredible_ proximity she had to his chest, and she could see his blood pulsing rapidly at the base of his throat. For a moment, the filthy and _completely_ uncalled for thought to sink her teeth into the skin there flashed across her mind, and she could feel her face getting hot. 

She met Éomer’s eyes the moment they came back into view, and his face settled into a look of concern. 

“You’re looking rather flushed,” he told her. “Perhaps some fresh air would do you well.” 

_Oh, no_ , she thought. _**You** would do me just as well._

She covered her mouth, shocked at her own mind, and hoping that wouldn’t slip past her lips. This only served to make her look apparently more intoxicated, and Éomer ushered her to the doors. 

The fresh air did clear her head, but only a moment after made it spin again when she realized this meant they were alone. Suddenly, what he’d said to her was incredibly funny. She chuckled, eyeing his broad shoulders in the silvery moonlight, and he shot her a look. 

“What?”

“It’s just that it’s quite funny, really,” she giggled. “The golden-haired princeling, Third Marshal and Lord of the Mark, and he doesn’t know how to dance?”

“Battle is a dance,” he retorted, taking a left onto a wide walkway. “That is all of it I need. Maybe you need to sit down.”

“No, I don’t. You know, I’ve been dancing since I could walk. I could teach you.”

He shook his head. “I don’t want to learn.”

“Of course you do!” Y/N twirled backwards, breathing in the crisp air, and leapt onto a parapet.

“Careful!” he barked, but she skipped forward with a laugh, bounding across the short walkway to a bench, then to the ground. Her hair fell into her eyes as she held out her hand for him.

“It’s simple,” she assured. “Not nearly as many rules as there are with your horses.”

He studied her hand and her face for another long moment, then hesitantly reached out to take her hand. “If anyone catches us, I will never speak to you again.”

“Of course you won’t.” Y/N picked up his other hand, and held them at shoulder height. “Follow my feet with yours. We’ll start simple.”

As it turned out, he was much worse at following her feet than she anticipated, and it took another ten minutes to get a handful of simple steps down well enough that he wasn’t tripping over her or jerking like a rattling post before he stepped into a move. Her heart rate hadn’t slowed down in the slightest, and she wasn’t sure whether it was her hands getting clammy, or his. 

He took a step closer, so the only air she was breathing was heavy with the smell of horses and honeyed wine. 

“This is... another dance entirely,” she all but whispered, and his deep, rumbling hum rippled over her ears. 

“Is it, now.” 

It didn’t need an answer. Y/N didn’t think she could have given one, even if it did. The feeling of Éomer’s warm palms guiding her arms to rest on his shoulders dried her words in her throat, and the way they settled at her waist drew all semblance of cognitive thought from her mind. 

“You don’t seem to need much teaching on this one.” 

He hummed wordlessly, and his hands splayed across her back at her spine.

“I would... very much like to kiss you,” he sighed, his breath warming her chin. 

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. “Really?”

He chuckled. “Don’t act so surprised.” 

He closed the remaining space between them with those words, and she accepted him happily, curling her fingers in his hair. His lips tasted of honey and ale, and he pressed closer for a moment before seeming to come to grips with himself and releasing her for air. The moment remained between them, delicate as spider silk in the quiet air.

“I’ve waited... _so long_ for that.”

Y/N didn’t want to open her eyes yet, and the breathlessness of his admission sent a shiver down her spine. Then, the more she thought about what had been going through her head over the years, almost desperate for his affection but too scared to look for it, and what only must have been going through his made laughter bubble in her chest. She embraced him tighter, and he joined her, lifting her at the waist and spinning her in a circle in the cool night air. 

Her head remained in the clouds even as Éomer set her feet back on the ground. Their laughter subsided into giggles, then into wide smiles. His golden curls brushed her cheek and collar as he turned his head to press kisses to her cheek. Her heart was still pounding, but she could feel his racing just as fast, and it just felt so _right_. 

“I love you too,” she told him. He laughed breathlessly and pressed his mouth to hers again, letting the dancing spider silk between them settle.

Both of them had gained more than skills over the last years-- they had gained a friend, and a lover, and a future. There would be more skills to pick up, more nuances about the other to learn, but learning a new thing isn’t always so bad. 


End file.
